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Christopher Coff,n hu 



SSEY 



Talks About 
Old Nantucket 




By 



Christopher Coffin Hussey 



H2 H<^n 



Copyright 1901 by 
Lydia Coffin Hussey 



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PREFACE 

It is much to be regretted that, owing to the 
author's feeble state of health while writing this 
little book, more time and care could not have been 

given it. 

It was left in an unfinished state. It has, 
however, been a great pleasure to do the little 
work which was necessary before giving the 
manuscript to the lovers of old Nantucket, for 
whom it was especially written. 

Lydia Coffin Hussey. 



^ ^ 



Introductory 



^ ^ 




|EW places in our country have acquired so much 
interest, and that of an unusual and quaint nature, 
as the island of Nantucket. Peculiar in its isolated 
situation and in the nature of its business, from 
which for nearly two hundred years its inhabitants 
derived their support; peculiar in its religious faith— that of the 
Society of Friends— which obtained in its history such prepon- 
derance as to become a sort of national religion, and to mould and 
color the entire life of the island— peculiar in becoming the third 
town in commercial importance in the Commonwealth, and then 
declining to the entire loss of its shipping, and the lessening of its 
population to one-third of the number in its prosperous days; 
peculiar from these combined causes, the island has gathered 
about itself a unique and singular fascination to all connected 
with it by their ancestry or by their own residence there, as well 
as to the large number from all parts uf the country who h ave 
made it their summer home of latter years. 

Born on the island (my ancestry dating back to its first set- 
tlement), with a natural taste for the old and quaint, 1 picked up 
without knowing it, and without purpose of its use or preserva- 
tion, a considerable store of island lore, tradition, legend and 
story, which frequently formed subjects of conversation in leisure 
hours. Being often urged to put this into some form for preser- 
vation, I at length yielded to the solicitations, out of regard chiefly 
to my dear family and to my many valued friends, to whom I 
dedicate this little book, calling it, for want of a better name, 
"Talks About Old Nantucket." 

5 



i^ 


TalKs About 
Old NantucKet 


«^ 



Chapter I 




ANTUCKET, that quaint old town on the sea, a spot 
dearer to its children than any other place on earth, 
is in its decadence, still clothed with a fascination of 
interest such as few places ever possess even to the 
stranger. It is a low, level, sandy island, once 
wooded, although never heavily, and now for the last century 
nearly destitute of a tree of original growth; fertile only in occa- 
sional spots, and destitute of the picturesque except for the grand 
surroundings of ocean. 

How it ever came to be settled and, greater wonder, how its 
population ever rose to nearly ten thousand, are questions which 
have often been asked. A partial answer is doubtless found in 
its location, and another solution may be found in the strong love 
of home and aversion to change of residence inherent in those 
born and reared on an island. 

Some years ago I was at Bedford Pool, Me., where I found 
several families by the name of Hussey. I discovered in an old 
cemetery so many of the name, beside those of other Nantucket 
families, that 1 became convinced there must have been at an 



earlier time some close connection between the places. On in- 
quiry 1 could learn nothing. I wrote to my esteemed cousin, 
Eliza Barney, of Nantucket, the genealogist, who gave me a bit 
of romance. It seems that about the middle of the last century, 
two brothers, Bachellor and Christopher Hussey, prominent mem- 
bers of the Society of Friends, had a misunderstanding about 
landed property. Not being able to live in unity, and retain their 
membership in the meeting where the query was asked monthly, 
"Are love and unity maintained amongst you.'*" one of them 
took his family of nine children and went down to what was then 
called Fletcher's Neck, now called Biddeford Pool, and settled 
there, afterwards drawing from Nantucket a few families. In 
going they left much and went to little, and soon the children 
becoming men and women drifted to their old home and were the 
ancestors of prominent families in New Bedford and Nantucket. 
As 1 looked on the location they chose at the Pool, it was inter- 
esting to see that, like our English ancestors, in settling in Amer- 
ica they carried the home instinct with them, and chose spots 
near the harbor and shore and creeks, very like the Hussey 
homes on the island. 

Tradition tells of a visit to the island of the Northmen at 
some unknown early period, as well as of their visits to other 
points along the Atlantic coast. As far as Nantucket is concerned, 
this is mere tradition, with nothing to verify it. The authenti- 
cated history of the island begins with its discovery in 1602 by 
Bartholomew Gosnold, an Englishman. He sailed from England 
in a small bark with thirty-two persons, bound for Virginia in 
search of a proper seat for a plantation. Having fallen in with 

8 



the Cape Shore (Cape Cod) late in the day, to avoid danger he 
stood off to sea, and Jnlhe night came in sight of the white cliffs 
at the east end of Nantucket, now Sankaty Head, the highest 
land on that part of the island. Whence arose the name of the 
island we are uncertain. There have been fanciful traditions con- 
cerning it, but it is generally thought that Nautican, known by 
ancient voyagers, and Nantucket are the same. We find no 
other record concerning Nantucket until the year 1641, at which 
time the whole island was deeded to Thomas Mayhew and his 
son Thomas, by James Faurett, agent to William, Earl of Ster- 
ling. The first emigration of the whites to the island forms one 
of the most interesting points in its history. 

Thomas Macy was the first settler. In the year 1640, being 
then a young man, he moved with his family from the town of 
Chilmark, in Wiltshire, England, and settled in Salisbury, County 
of Essex, in Massachusetts. He lived here in good repute twenty 
years, where he acquired a good interest, consisting of a tract of 
land of one thousand acres, a good house and considerable stock. 
When this part of the country became more thickly settled by 
the English, dissensions arose among the people in regard to 
religion. Among other restraining laws, one was made that any 
person who should entertain one of the people called Quakers 
should pay a fine of five pounds for every hour during which he 
so entertained him. Thomas Macy subjected himself to the rigor 
of this law by giving shelter to a Quaker preacher who stopped 
at his house in a storm. This act was soon sounded abroad, for, 
being actuated by a sense of duty, he had used no means to con- 
ceal it. When cited to answer for the offence he addressed a 



letter to the court, the original of which is preserved in the cabi- 
net of the Nantucket Athenaeum, where it can be read by all 
who are interested. He could now no longer live in peace and 
in the enjoyment of religious freedom among his own people, and 
he chose to remove his family to a place unsettled by the whites, 
to take up his abode among savages where he could safely imi- 
tate the example of Jesus Christ, and where religious zeal had 
not yet discovered a crime in hospitality, or the refinements of 
civil law a punishment for its practice. 

In the autumn of 1659, he embarked in an open boat with 
his family and such effects as he could conveniently take with 
him, and, with the assistance of Edward Starbuck, proceeded 
along the shore until they were abreast of the island ; thence 
they crossed Vineyard Sound and landed on Nantucket. Their 
first care was to establish a good understanding with the natives, 
whom they found very numerous, and who flocked around them 
in amazem.ent, having never before had an opportunity to see 
English people on the island. The natives were kind and hospi- 
table, and readily lent their aid whenever they could make them- 
selves useful. It being now late in the autumn, the care was to 
build a shelter for the family. There they spent the winter, the 
only white family, confined on the island among Indians, of 
whose character and language they were almost entirely igno- 
rant. In the spring following, Edward Starbuck returned to 
Salisbury, where he was met with rejoicing by his friends, who 
had felt doubtful of his safe return. The same year he returned 
to the island, accompanied by eight or ten families. 

10 




Chapter II 

I HERE is little recorded of the life of the Islanders. A 
unique life it was, of simple habits, the people being 
closely allied by family ties and by a similarity of 
pursuits and interests. Their support was derived 
from the sea and such farming as the soil of the 
island allowed. At that early stage of the country's growth, the 
whales which sought the shallow waters of the coast near Nan- 
tucket were taken with comparative ease for they were then 
undisturbed by the commerce of the ocean, which later drove 
them to remote regions. The Islanders soon began to pursue and 
capture them in open boats, putting off from the shore and return- 
ing at night. Many of the Indians joining in this business be- 
came as expert whalemen as the white men. These beginnings 
of the whaling business with simple, crude methods have much 
of quaint interest, which those cannot realize who knew the bus- 
iness only in later years, when the ships of Nantucket were seen 
in every sea and the voyages were three or four years in length. 
At the south of the site of the present town was a range of 
hills, called later Mill Hills, from the wind mills there, only one of 
which remains*. On the highest of these hills a spar was erected 
with cleats across it, not unlike a vessel's shroud, as a lookout 
for whales near the shore. When the signal was given "There 
she blows!" and the direction announced, the boats would put 
off in pursuit; the whales were tried out in small try-houses 

*Now owned by the Historical Society of NantucPcet. 
— II 



built at convenient places along the coast. An old citizen, stand- 
ing one day on Mill Hills and looking off over the ocean, said, 
** There is the pasture where our children's children will go for 
bread. " So it proved. It was the pasture whence came in after 
years the support and wealth of as prosperous and happy a com- 
munity as the country or the world ever had, until by the in- 
crease of maritime commerce the whales were driven to more 
distant regions, making whaling more hazardous ; and the dis- 
covery of other means of lighting rendering less remunerative, it 
gradually declined and finally ceased on the island. The ships, 
one by one, were hauled up and either sold abroad or were aban- 
doned. All the numerous factories were gradually taken down ; 
the wharves once full of busy life, where fortunes from the sea 
were landed and again shipped to many parts of the world, were 
deserted and fell into decay, grass grew in the streets, and silence 
unbroken and oppressive settled over the former dwelling place of 
prosperous, contented industry. 

Previous to the close of the seventeenth century, the records 
of the island are meagre, reminding one oi the ''short and sim- 
ple annals of the poor, " and not much of oral tradition of that pe- 
riod was handed down. 

In the next half century the increase of the whaling business 
and of the population brought many marked changes. The most 
conspicuous of these was the change in the site of the town. 
The harbor at the west end of the island, called Maddequet Har- 
bor, was found to be too small, while it was not sufficiently land- 
locked to be protected from northerly and easterly gales ; and 
the harbor which is now used, being larger and much better 



12 



adapted in every way to the wants of the island, gradually sup- 
planted the other. Previous to this change the most thickly set- 
tled part of the island was in the region along the north shore, 
within a radius of about a mile east, south and west of the pres- 
ent reservoir of water-works. I used to hear in my boyhood an 
acquaintance, who was then in advanced life, say that his father 
remembered when the lane about a mile from the western end of 
the present Main street and a little east of the lot marked as the 
site of the house where Dr. Franklin's mother was born, was 
thickly enough settled to be called a street. There has not been 
a dwelling house on it for a hundred years, except a small one 
built in comparatively late years for a summer residence. An- 
other aged friend said he remembered when meeting was done at 
the Friends' meeting house, which stood from 1736 to 1790 at 
the present Friends' burying ground at the west end of Main 
street, more people went west than east to go to their homes. 
One looking at the present situation finds it difficult to realize 

this. 

The soil in the western part of the island was not sufficiently 
fertile to sustain a farming population, and when the harbor was 
changed many houses were removed to the locality of the new 
town? Several of these are still standing and retain their identity. 

At this date but one house of the original town is left stand- 
ing where it was built, in 172s, by Elihu Coleman, a noted 
preacher in the Society of Friends, who was born in 1700 and 
died in 1789. The house must have been exceedingly well 
built, as it is still in a good state of preservation, remarkably level 

13 



and upright for one so old. That it may be preserved as a mon- 
ument of a noble past, through the sentiment of either some of 
the descendants of Elihu Coleman or of the island people them- 
selves, is much to be desired. 

Standing there in imposing proportions and appearance, as 
seen across the plains, alone left of all the settlement of which it 
was once a part, something sublime gathers around it. its stately 
form is the same, the arrangements of the interior have scarcely 
been changed, the big kitchen fireplace with oven in the back 
remains as it was. To the lover of antiquity the whole house is 
very satisfactory, and its appearance shows that the owner as a 
house builder, as well as a minister, was ahead of his times, 
though without much book lore. What is said to have held 
Friend Coleman's library can still be seen — a shelf over the door 
of the west front room leading to the kitchen. In the exceeding 
smallness of its capacity there was no room for speculative theol- 
ogy or mere theories of religion, but it may be better adapted to 
draw from the deep foundations than the costly libraries of many 
modern ministers' studies laden with scholastic erudition. 

in the southwest corner of this room 1 saw standing, in 1840, 
the clock for which they sent to England the year in which the 
house was built. A granddaughter of the family herself, then 
old, said to me, "My Grandfather sent to England forty pounds 
of whalebone, which a little more than paid for the clock, and 
for change there was returned a copy of SewalTs History. " The 
clock had never been known to stop, except from neglect in wind- 
ing, but once, and that was from the shock of the great Lisbon 
earthquake in 1755, which shock was felt throughout New Eng- 
land. 

14 




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The oldest house now standing in the town proper, built in 
1685, is the one at the North Shore, as it used to be called, be- 
longing originally to the Coffin family, and within a few years 
has been put in condition for preservation by Tristram Coffin, 
Esq., of Poughkeepsie, New York. Connected with its history 
is a tradition of some interest. The owner of the house went 
from home very early one morning to go fishing, leaving his wife 
and young child sleeping in a room on the lower floor. Suddenly 
there appeared an Indian, who is supposed to have entered and 
gone up stairs, where he fell through the imperfect floor into a 
closet which opened into the room where the woman was. He 
went to the hearth, sharpened his knife, then blew out the light. 
The brave woman made no outcry, but seizing the child sprang 
past the Indian, who was intoxicated, and running to her father's 
house, which was not far distant, gave the alarm which caused 
the Indian to be secured. 

The oldest house on the island, at the present time very 
much in ruins, is that known as the George Swain house, 
at Polpis, built in 1673. ^t is a low, small house, and has no es- 
pecial history. There has always been something of strange, 
pathetic interest to the writer, in standing in front of this forsaken 
home, which, like all early houses, faces the south and looks off 
towards the southeast quarter. There is an indescribable impres- 
sion in the silent landscape, and if two houses, one near the other 
remote, could be taken away and a few wigwams scattered 
around, it would be much as it was when the original inhabitants 
first looked out over the wide expanse of moor and swamps, with 

15 



a patch of woods visible here and there, and wondered if a south- 
east storm were gathering, as the clouds hove up over ''Torn 
Never's Head." 

Another house at Polpis, not now standing, was built two 
years after the George Swain house, on what was known as the 
Hannah Meader Farm, later the Prince Gardner Farm. This was 
a larger house, used for many years by Hannah Meader as a house 
of entertainment for people riding out from town, and has some- 
thing of a history. Not far from the back of the house ran a 
small stream, in olden time. Across this stream stood a small 
English-built house, in which died one of the last of the Indians 
who were carried off by the great Indian sickness. A daughter 
of Hannah Meader, who lived to be nearly one hundred, told me 
in my boyhood that she remembered going with her mother to 
the edge of the stream, still traceable, to carry food to the stricken 
Indians. For fear of taking the sickness she would put her pail 
by the stream, shout to the Indians, and then leave. This small 
house was moved to town, enlarged, and was standing on York 
street, a little way out of Orange street, until within a few years. 
This aged woman told also of an intoxicated Indian who came to 
her mother's in the evening in the absence of her father, and 
Clamored at the back door for admittance. She was a small girl, 
and a little child lay asleep in the cradle. The mother took from 
the "mantle tree shelf," as it was then called, a tortoise shell 
snuff box, and told her she would give it to her if she would sit 
still, make no noise, and rock the cradle till she returned. Think- 
ing the Indian would not venture around to the front door, she 
went out that way and ran to the nearest neighbor, not less than 

i6 



half a mile, where she obtained two men who returned with her, 
and found the intruder still at his post. ''Let me open the door, " 
she said, which she did, and before the Indian was secured he 
made a wound on that brave woman's neck, the scar of which 
remained to her death. 

The frames of two houses of special historic interest, removed 
from the old to the new town, are still standing, and probably 
but little known. One is the north part of the house on Pine 
street, once owned by John Folger. This was the house of 
Nathaniel Starbuck and Mary, his wife, the ''Great Woman, " 
as she was called. It was often spoken of as the "Parliament 
House, " from the fact that the town meetings were held there. 
The other is the house on Milk street, next west of the house on 
the corner of "New Dollar Lane." This was the house of 
Nathaniel Starbuck, Jr., son of Nathaniel and Mary. He was 
one of the preachers, and the first clerk of Friends' Meeting. 
Many houses of special interest, and other buildings connected 
with the early history of the town, were destroyed in the great 
fire of 1846. The loss of these was other than pecuniarily very 
great. To be able to go about in the lower part of the town 
among its prominent buildings and quaint streets and lanes, as 
they were in the olden time and in the prosperous days of the 
island, would be an inexhaustible mine of interest to the great 
numbers of visitors to the island of later years, especially to those 
who once lived there, to whom old associations are very dear. 

The sites of the William Rotch house and store, the Samuel 
Rodman, and the Hammet house, which stood where now the 
Pacific Bank stands, and many others are still known and possess 

17 



an interest attached to all buildings in which has flowed the life 
of the homes of those long since passed away. 

A house of some historic interest is the one on Orange street, 
on the west side, a little above the railroad crossing, remodelled 
by Allen Smith. It was built by Abigail Howes, daughter of 
Steven Hussey, the founder of the Hussey family on Nantucket, 
whose estate was ''across the Creeks. " The house was built 
in 1704, and was considered at the time a great piece of extrava- 
gance. The bricks came from Holland, the windows were one 
pane of glass wider than the regulation width of the period ; the 
front stairs had balusters which ran quite to the garret. The car- 
penters came from Boston and boarded in an ancient house oppo- 
site, which has been gone but a few years. The remark was 
often made "Abigail Howes must be crazy to be building such a 
house. " The Husseys as a race were inclined to be progressive 
and a little fond of style. It may be it was a family trait devel- 
oped by a short residence in Boston in her husband's day that 
accounts for the wider windows, the stair railing, and the absence 
of the long slope back roof. A touching incident of the husband's 
death is preserved. He and his young wife went to visit his 
friends on the main land in an open boat, accompanied by an 
Indian. When returning, in crossing the bar, the husband, who 
had the steering oar, slipped and fell overboard. The Indian was 
too much frightened to save him, and the wife, seizing the oar, 
managed to get near her father's house, when she gave out and 
fell fainting on the beach. For her son, born after her husband's 
death, she built the house on Orange street. 

18 



The William Macy house, which stood on the corner of 
Main and Federal streets, attracted the attention of hundreds 
when it was taken down by its large chimneys, which had in the 
lower story alone four of the old-time square jamb fire-places, of 
not less than nine or ten feet each in width. The necessary con- 
traction in the width of the chimney before it came out of the 
roof was so great that one tier of bricks fell so much back of the 
one below it as to furnish steps up which one fearless boy walked 
to the top after the house had been taken away. A good story 
is told of one who occupied the house after the lower part was 
converted into stores. He thought the house was on fire, but 
could not discover its source so went to bed, to find in the morn- 
ing, when the store was opened, coals dropping on the counter. 
The trimmer, the timber which supported the chamber hearth, 
was so large that it smouldered all night and had only just worked 
through. It was humorously told that the mason who took down 
the chimney offered to the owner to build him a brick house and 
take the bricks left as pay for his work. 

The Samson house, afterwards the Daniel Jones house, on 
Orange street, probably the first with brick ends, was built about 
1790. It was a fine house then, and is so still, with its front 
changed from wood to brick about fifty years ago. Nearly op- 
posite this house, a little back of those now forming the east side 
of Orange street, north of and near what is now Stone Alley, 
stood an unpretentious house, around which two or three inter- 
esting incidents gathered. The house, like some others of early 
times, was framed on the main land. When it was being erected 
it was found to be upright all around, the two back stories high 
like the front, and so without the regulation long back roof. 

19 



To some of the Islanders this caused uneasiness, as being 
likely to introduce change and extravagance. A citizens' meet- 
ing was convened and the owner requested to cut down the back 
posts. Good man as he was he complied, which, it was humor- 
ously told, made the back door so low as to occasion the bump- 
ing of his head the rest of his life. 

At one time a fishing vessel fell in with a wreck which 
proved something of a prize. The crew on their return were not 
equal to reckoning each one's share of the prize money. Debat- 
ing what to do, one said, ''There is Ruth Gardner, whose hus- 
band was the owner of this house, her father was a schoolmaster, 
and I guess she can reckon it." They went to her and told her 
the circumstances. She took the large bellows hanging by the 
side of the fireplace, took a piece of chalk from her pocket, and 
quickly told what each one's share was. 

A daughter of the family, whom I remember in her old age 
as a person of much excellence of character, and a valued elder 
among Friends, told me her mother said to her when she was 
a young woman, "Eunice, why does not thee open a school.-* 
Thee knows the verbs and the articles, and 1 will come once a 
week and do the whipping." 

An excuse of Ruth Gardner, widow of Nathaniel, for not 
attending a wedding to which she was invited on the day she 
entered her ninety-third year, is written in verse. 

King David, Barriliar did invite 

To make his home at court ; 
His favors he did never slight, 

But to him did report. 

20 



This day thy servant is fourscore ; 

No beauties can she see, 
Or music can she hear no more, 

In dainties tasted free. 

Let this be my excuse ; 

To that I add twelve years. 
My organs are all out of use, 

Though thy favors I revere. 

Altho' I am thy only aunt. 

Yet thou must me excuse, 
For to attend I surely can't 

Or be of any use. 

This by the daughter Eunice, written in her eighty-third 
year, is of equal interest : 

[ To the four hoys who raised the largest edifice of snow before the hack win- 
dows of our house that I ever saw.] 

No magic e'er raised this pile. 

Enchantment had no power. 
But youthful energy and skill 

Toiled for it many an hour. 

There is a charm to work on things 

That no resistance shows ; 
With plastic hands you gave the shape 

And built a house of snow. 

A mistress of the fur-clad Russ 

Once followed the device, 
To raise a palace bright and clear 

Composed of naught but ice. 

21 



How long it stood they did not tell, 

But this we all may know, — 
That, evanescent as it was. 

It passed away like snow. 

May you, dear boys, when youth has passed, 

And manhood bears its sway, 
A trophy raise of virtuous deeds. 

That ne'er can melt away ! 

A pathetic incident is also connected with the house. In the 
time of the sickness which carried off the Indians, one called 
with whom there had been some barter. He said, 'M want to 
settle with you, Mrs. Gardner, for 1 shall not live long." She 
tried in vain to dissuade him from this feeling. *M see it," he 
said, ''under my finger nails. 1 feel it all over. The Great 
Spirit has shown it to me. " The business was settled with much 
kindness and he started for his home at Squam Head, about nine 
miles away, at the east end of the island, but did not reach there, 
his prediction being fulfilled at a wigwam on the way. 

There moved into this neighborhood, in the time of the Revo- 
lution, a family of wealth from Boston, going to the island for 
greater security. One day, one of the family went to neighbor 
Gardner's and asked if he might bring in and hide in their house 
a bag of specie, thinking as they were Quakers it would be safer 
there. The mother said, *'Yes, but we must know nothing 
about it. Wait until we are all gone to meeting, then come in 
and put it where thee sees fit." It was hidden in a nook of the 
chimney. Some time after, a son of the family was bounding a 

22 



ball, when it went up the chimney and lodged. In trying to re- 
cover it the bag was knocked down, and the owner was sent for 
to find another hiding place. It was a son of this house who 
brought to the island, from France, its first umbrella. From the 
same feeling that led the father to cut down the back posts of 
the house it was left unused. My old friend who kept the school 
was going with some of her young companions to ride to Sconset. 
She asked her mother if she might take the umbrella as a pro- 
tection from the sun. "Yes," she said, "with the promise that 
thee will not open it until thee gets out of the town, and have it 
closed and put in the bottom of the cart when thee returns." 

Speaking of the first umbrella reminds me of my mother's 
telling of the first chaise on the island. I remember the small 
building in which it was kept, of which there were many about 
the town in my boyhood, called chaise-houses. There was, my 
mother said, so general a feeling that a "shay" was too luxuri- 
ous for common use that the first one was only used when lent 
for a funeral or for the use of an invalid. 

A house in the northern part of the town, known as the 
Charles Gardner house, stands, off from any street, on a little ele- 
vation that used to be called " Gull Island," which in early time 
was nearly surrounded by water at some seasons of the year. 
This house in its changed form is still a stately mansion. I heard 
Captain Gardner, one of the owners of the house, a courtly 
Quaker gentleman, relate some incidents of his boyhood. Two 
members of the family, with some other Nantucket men, went to 
the main land for the purpose of procuring wood and timber. 
They took their provisions with them and made arrangements 

23 



with a woman of the place to cook their meals. They showed 
her a bag of coffee unburned, with the request that they might 
have some for dinner. When they sat down to the table at 
noon, their hostess seemed anxious and told them she had put on 
the coffee to boil as soon as they left, with a good piece of salt 
pork, but it was as hard as ever and she was afraid they would 
not be able to eat it. In the fall a piece of cloth was sent to the 
main land to be filled, preparatory to being made into an over- 
coat for one of the family. It being the time of the Revolution- 
ary War, the vessel was captured by an English privateer, and 
the boy lost his coat. However, Charles must have a coat. 
There was wool in the house, both black and white, and hearts 
and hands willing to work. The mothers and sisters soon spun 
and wove another piece of cloth ; but not willing to risk trans- 
portation again, it was put into a pounding barrel outside the back 
door, and the rule made that each member of the family, when 
he or she passed in or out, should pound a certain number of times 
until the cloth was sufficiently filled. The wearer lived to acquire 
a handsome property, was one of our most respected ship cap- 
tains, and lived to wear much finer cloth, but he said, ** 1 never 
had a warmer or better coat" It may be he was not so devoid 
of sentiment but that a mother's and sisters' love enhanced the 
value of the coat, for he was a man of fine sensibilities. 



24 




i 



Keziah fanning 

Daughter of Keziah Coffin (Miriam Coffin*, heroine of the 
novel called "Miriam Coffin," or "The Whale Fisherman." 




Chapter III 

|ET us talk now of some of the Nantucket people. 
Our sea-coast towns abound in characters of 
local notoriety and incidents grave or humorous 
connected with them. Nantucket has had abun- 
dance of these. From the fact that the men of the 
island were so generally at sea, the women enter largely into this 
list, as they did into the entire life of the town. It was they who 
chiefly had the rearing of the children and the management of 
the family's finances. They were for a long period the main 
teachers of the town, and from the nature of Friends' principles 
as to the ministry they were often also the ministers. 

In my boyhood I was one day accosted by a stranger, who 
asked me if the large house on the corner of Main and Pleasant 
streets was the Friends' meeting house. I told him it was. He 
said, ''Elihu Coleman was one of my ancestors and preached 
in that house. I wonder if I could get a shingle to take with me, 
and have something made as a souvenir? " I said, '' I think so, 
as the building is soon to be taken down." I took him around 
to the south side, where I thought there were some of the origi- 
nal ones, which had survived the moving of the house nearly 
fifty years before. He found one, much guttered and worn, which 
he prized highly. It seems he was on the island gathering 
material for his book, "Miriam Coffin." He introduced himself 
to Franklin Folger, of Sconset, as Mr. Thompson, desiring to pre- 
serve his incognito, but afterwards proved to be a Mr. Hart, of 
New York. I have often wished I knew into what that large, 

25 



weather-beaten, cedar shingle was wrought by our friend, and 
whether prized and preserved by any of his descendants. I have 
often wished that I had been then as familiar with the family as 
1 have been since, and could have told him anecdotes of them 
and their place of residence. 

The real name of the heroine of the book, "Miriam Coffm," 
was Keziah Coffm. She was one of the remarkable women of the 
island, and had she lived in a manner more in keeping with the 
Islander's sense of a sturdy, noble character, would have been en- 
rolled among the distinguished women of Massachusetts of the last 
century. The book, by the way, 1 would commend to you as 
giving as good a representation of the life of earlier settlers of the 
island as can be found, for it is in the main a true description as 
well as an interesting one. I had the advantage, when reading 
the book, of knowing a woman (nearly a hundred years old), 
whose memory was still good, and conversing much with her 
about the different scenes and persons the book mentions. The 
incidents of the book have for the most part a basis of reality, 
although put together with a novelist's license. My old friend 
told me the real names of the persons mentioned and also the 
names of the localities, all of which 1 visited. 

Miriam Coffm's town house, which is spoken of as being 
built by her rather than her husband, was regarded at the time 
of its building as a great piece of extravagance. I well remem- 
ber it as 1 do also her country house, which was no less a depart- 
ure from primitive simplicity. The former was burned in the 
great fire of 1846, and had not been changed externally from its 
original somewhat pretentious appearance. It stood on Centre 

26 



street, one house north of the corner of Pearl street, on what is 
now the lawn belonging to the late Charles B. Swain estate. A 
small front room was Aunt Keziah's shop. It had a bow win- 
dow which remained to the last. My aged friend said she well 
remembered going to this shop with her mother in the time of the 
Revolutionary War, when the island was reduced to great pecu- 
niary distress. Aunt Keziah, a stately woman, would take down 
the goods asked for, name the price — an exorbitant one which 
the purchaser would not or could not pay, — then without a word 
she would quietly place the goods on the shelf again, knowing 
that she held a monopoly and that the people must go without or 
come to her terms finally. 

When a chamber of the house was being remodelled, some 
years before it was burned, a large closet was found that had no 
means of entrance except by removing a panel, which was so 
put in as to show no trace of its use as a door. The closet was 
undoubtedly used as a place of concealment for goods in the time 
of the war. 

It was a pity to have the house go up in smoke and flames, 
and, with many other interests, be lost to the knowledge of the 
present generation. Keziah's out of town house, or, as it might 
be called, country seat, was equally imposing. It stood near the 
south shore of Polpis harbor, in what was known as the Simeon 
Macy farm, owned now, I think, by William Starbuck. It was 
larger than most farm houses, with the full complement of large 
windows, and, standing on a commanding eminence, was a prom- 
inent object in the landscape. 

27 



My aged friend was, when a child, at this house, and related 
an incident which is confirmatory of a legend alluded to in "Mir- 
iam Coffin, ' ' which says, ' ' There was a subterranean passage from 
a clump of bushes on the shore of the harbor to the cellar of the 
house, designed for smuggling in goods from small sloops which 
might be seen at nightfall running up towards Polpis harbor." 
The narrator was playing on the beach with other little girls when 
they discovered in some bushes what they took to be a large drain 
leading from the house. It evidently had not been used for that 
purpose, and was high enough for them to stand up in. They 
went as far as they dared, and when they returned to the 
house they asked their stately hostess what it was. She gave 
them some evasive reply and forbade their going to the place 
again. This, doubtless, was the foundation of the author's 
legend, in which Peleg Folger, a brother of the heroine, is spoken 
of as making the same discovery as the children, and was effec- 
tively silenced from asking questions by his shrewd sister. 

By Keziah's great business talent and political management 
she was enabled to obtain almost a monopoly of most of the nec- 
essaries of life, which were difficult of attainment on the island. 
During the war, when the people had spent their money, she 
took mortgages on their real estate. An old citizen told me that 
at the close of the war she held mortgages on a large amount of 
the island property. These she needed to realize upon in order 
to meet her liabilities abroad, and estate after estate had to be sold 
at auction. The purchasers were the persons or their sympa- 
thizers, who felt she had been an oppressor. The property was 
knocked off at ruinously low prices. **She stood it longer, " said 

28 



my informant, "than any man ever would, but finally had to 
succumb. I saw her, " he said, '* brought out of the house, 
which she built and would not yield possession of, sitting in her 
arm chair, looking dignified and stately as ever. She sat awhile, 
then calmly rose and went around into the yard. After this, live 
on the island in poverty, amidst her kinspeople and the scenes of 
her former greatness, she would not. Live a subject of the 
American Republic she would not ; and, turning her back on it 
all, she went to the British Dominions, where she spent nearly 
the rest of her life, returning in old age to Nantucket, at the earn- 
est persuasion of her only daughter. 

The ruling passion strong in death, she attempted, but in 
vain, to recover some of her former possessions. After return- 
ing from court at noon, her lawyer called and told her it was of 
no use for her to contend with the law longer, to which she re- 
plied, * I want thee to keep this in court as long as I live. ' Pre- 
paring to go to the afternoon session, she tripped and fell to the 
bottom of the stairs breaking her neck, thus ending a strangely 
checkered life. She was a woman of much ability and great 
capacity for business, but, while inheriting the birthright of the 
Quakers of the island, their language and customs, she was 
wanting in their straightforward devotion to principle, which for 
over a century formed the island's real wealth more than its 
ships or its merchandise. " 

Another character worthy of mention was Aunt Katie Fol- 
ger, who was a great admirer of Robert Thomas' Farmer's Al- 
manac, which she regarded as authority. Some of her grand- 
children, looking over the almanac one day, came across, in the 

29 



columns of remarkable events, the hanging of Quakers in Boston. 
Having always lived on Nantucket, where Quakers were so nu- 
merous and influential, this greatly surprised them and they ex- 
claimed, "Grandmother, did they ever hang Quakers?" She 
was a Presbyterian, as in that day they were called, and to give 
her reply the more point she was reading from the Bible. Rais- 
ing her glasses to her forehead, she replied, '' Yes, children, they 
did hang Quakers and richly they deserved it. " 

There came one spring a severe snow storm, so late as to be 
remarkable. These same children, wishing to test the correct- 
ness of their grandmother's confidence in her favorite almanac, 
looked to see if mention were made of the storm. To their joy 
there was not. They went to her in triumph to tell of the defi- 
ciency. She heard them calmly, and said, " Children, Robert 
Thomas knew all about it, but it was too dubious to mention. " 

Cousin Elizabeth Black, as she was familiarly called, was 
quite a celebrity. She was chiefly noted for a stilted style of 
talking, even in the most common conversation. In keeping with 
Friends' testimony against all music, she could not keep even the 
jew's-harp, common fifty years ago, for sale in her little shop. 1 
used to delight to stop in as 1 passed to and from school, and ask 
for one to hear her reply. " Cousin Elizabeth, has thee any jew's- 
harps?" " No, child, and no other harp that the Israelites used 
for diversion or devotion. " An inmate of the house stepped into 
her room and asked familiarly, " Cousin Elizabeth, has thee seen 
my scissors? " '* No, Abigail, and 1 should not be willing to go 
before a magistrate under a solemnity and affirm that thee was 
ever the owner of a pair of scissors. " 

30 



street, one house north of the corner of Pearl street, on what is 
now the lawn belonging to the late Charles B. Swain estate. A 
small front room was Aunt Keziah's shop. It had a bow win- 
dow which remained to the last. My aged friend said she well 
remembered going to this shop with her mother in the time of the 
Revolutionary War, when the island was reduced to great pecu- 
niary distress. Aunt Keziah, a stately woman, would take down 
the goods asked for, name the price — an exorbitant one which 
the purchaser would not or could not pay, — then without a word 
she would quietly place the goods on the shelf again, knowing 
that she held a monopoly and that the people must go without or 
come to her terms finally. 

When a chamber of the house was being remodelled, some 
years before it was burned, a large closet was found that had no 
means of entrance except by removing a panel, which was so 
put in as to show no trace of its use as a door. The closet was 
undoubtedly used as a place of concealment for goods in the time 
of the war. 

It was a pity to have the house go up in smoke and flames, 
and, with many other interests, be lost to the knowledge of the 
present generation. Keziah's out of town house, or, as it might 
be called, country seat, was equally imposing. It stood near the 
south shore of Polpis harbor, in what was known as the Simeon 
Macy farm, owned now, I think, by William Starbuck. It was 
larger than most farm houses, with the full complement of large 
windows, and, standing on a commanding eminence, was a prom- 
inent object in the landscape. 

27 



My aged friend was, when a child, at this house, and related 
an incident which is confirmatory of a legend alluded to in "Mir- 
iam Coffm, ' ' which says, * * There was a subterranean passage from 
a clump of bushes on the shore of the harbor to the cellar of the 
house, designed for smuggling in goods from small sloops which 
might be seen at nightfall running up towards Polpis harbor." 
The narrator was playing on the beach with other little girls when 
they discovered in some bushes what they took to be a large drain 
leading from the house. It evidently had not been used for that i 

purpose, and was high enough for them to stand up in. They 
went as far as they dared, and when they returned to the 
house they asked their stately hostess what it was. She gave 
them some evasive reply and forbade their going to the place 
again. This, doubtless, was the foundation of the author's 
legend, in which Peleg Folger, a brother of the heroine, is spoken 
of as making the same discovery as the children, and was effec- 
tively silenced from asking questions by his shrewd sister. 

By Keziah's great business talent and political* management 
she was enabled to obtain almost a monopoly of most of the nec- 
essaries of life, which were difficult of attainment on the island. 
During the war, when the people had spent their money, she 
took mortgages on their real estate. An old citizen told me that 
at the close of the war she held mortgages on a large amount of 
the island property. These she needed to realize upon in order 
to meet her liabilities abroad, and estate after estate had to be sold 
at auction. The purchasers were the persons or their sympa- 
thizers, who felt she had been an oppressor. The property was 
knocked off at ruinously low prices. **She stood it longer, " said 

28 



my informant, "than any man ever would, but finally had to 
succumb. I saw her, " he said, "brought out of the house, 
which she built and would not yield possession of, sitting in her 
arm chair, looking dignified and stately as ever. She sat awhile, 
then calmly rose and went around into the yard. After this, live 
on the island in poverty, amidst her kinspeople and the scenes of 
her former greatness, she would not. Live a subject of the 
American Republic she would not ; and, turning her back on it 
all, she went to the British Dominions, where she spent nearly 
the rest of her life, returning in old age to Nantucket, at the earn- 
est persuasion of her only daughter. 

The ruling passion strong in death, she attempted, but in 
vain, to recover some of her former possessions. After return- 
ing from court at noon, her lawyer called and told her it was of 
no use for her to contend with the law longer, to which she re- 
plied, * I want thee to keep this in court as long as I live. ' Pre- 
paring to go to the afternoon session, she tripped and fell to the 
bottom of the stairs breaking her neck, thus ending a strangely 
checkered life. She was a woman of much ability and great 
capacity for business, but, while inheriting the birthright of the 
Quakers of the island, their language and customs, she was 
wanting in their straightforward devotion to principle, which for 
over a century formed the island's real wealth more than its 
ships or its merchandise. ' ' 

Another character worthy of mention was Aunt Katie Fol- 
ger, who was a great admirer of Robert Thomas' Farmer's Al- 
manac, which she regarded as authority. Some of her grand- 
children, looking over the almanac one day, came across, in the 

29 



columns of remarkable events, the hanging of Quakers in Boston. 
Having always lived on Nantucket, where Quakers were so nu- 
merous and influential, this greatly surprised them and they ex- 
claimed, ''Grandmother, did they ever hang Quakers?" She 
was a Presbyterian, as in that day they were called, and to give 
her reply the more point she was reading from the Bible. Rais- 
ing her glasses to her forehead, she replied, '' Yes, children, they 
did hang Quakers and richly they deserved it. " 

There came one spring a severe snow storm, so late as to be 
remarkable. These same children, wishing to test the correct- 
ness of their grandmother's confidence in her favorite almanac, 
looked to see if mention were made of the storm. To their juy 
there was not. They went to her in triumph to tell of the defi- 
ciency. She heard them calmly, and said, " Children, Robert 
Thomas knew all about it, but it was too dubious to mention. " 

Cousin Elizabeth Black, as she was familiarly called, was 
quite a celebrity. She was chiefly noted for a stilted style of 
talking, even in the most common conversation. In keeping with 
Friends' testimony against all music, she could not keep even the 
jew's-harp, common fifty years ago, for sale in her little shop. 1 
used to delight to stop in as 1 passed to and from school, and ask 
for one to hear her reply. *' Cousin Elizabeth, has thee any jew's- 
harps?" " No, child, and no other harp that the Israelites used 
for diversion or devotion. " An inmate of the house stepped into 
her room and asked familiarly, " Cousin Elizabeth, has thee seen 
my scissors? " '' No, Abigail, and I should not be willing to go 
before a magistrate under a solemnity and affirm that thee was 
ever the owner of a pair of scissors. " 

30 



Being quite a distance from home one day, she stepped into 
the house of a relative and said, *M am somewhat weary, cousin; 
will thee favor me with the use of thy horse and cart to convey 
me to my domicile ? And thee must send a charioteer who will 
drive steadily." 

She sent at one time for a prominent man of the town to say 
to him, **l want to solicit thee to cast thy vote and use thy influ- 
ence to procure for my cousin, Peleg Folger, the office of Town 
Clerk. He wants the office not so much for pecuniary emolu- 
ment, as from a thirst to reach the records and write a history of 
the island." 

The most elaborate specimen of her style, which 1 remem- 
ber, is her speaking to two young women who were her room- 
mates while travelling, and who were disposed to talk after retir- 
ing. "Now girls, the time for sleep has fully arrived, and it is 
my desire that silence may pervade the apartment until Sol again 
ascends the heavens, unless some emergency should call for ar- 
ticulation." The quaint historian and chronicler of the period, 
Franklin Folger, thought he would put her use of uncommon 
words to the test, and sent to her little shop a note asking for a 
pound of saccharine commodity. This puzzled Cousin Elizabeth, 
and she had to resort to the dictionary to learn that he wanted a 
pound of sugar. 

In 1825, Governor Lincoln was visiting a gentleman on the 
island who took him to see our friend. "Can it be possible," 
she said, "that thou art the Governor of Massachusetts, that 1 
now see standing before me with my own eyes.? Do walk in 

31 



and take a chair. Thou art the first governor in the official capac- 
ity tliat has visited here since 1763, and the pleasure which I now 
take in beholding thee shall be written on the tablets of my heart 
till time with me shall be no more." 

A friend called in a day or two after the Governor's call and 
remarked, ''So thee has had a call from the Governor." She 
answered promptly, "Yes, I have, and it is beyond my expecta- 
tions and excites my admiration that the Governor of the nation 
should come to visit me in my humble habitation." 

1 have spoken only of their quaint traits and speech, in a 
humorous strain. Do not take these as representatives of Nan- 
tucket. No place of the period contained a larger percentage of 
women who would be spoken of in another way — shrewd, capa- 
ble, noble in all life's walks, domestic, social, religious. The cir- 
cumstances of the place, its business and the large prevalence of 
the ideas of Quakerism put the women in a conspicuous place, a 
century in advance of the movements of our time in regard to 
woman's true position and sphere. Nantucket, with its Quaker 
influence, settled the question better than legislature can. 

Sojourner Truth forcibly said, "If women want their rights, 
let them take them," and on Nantucket they did, without pro- 
fession, and almost without knowing it As we have said, with 
the fathers at sea the mothers were the heads of the homes, and 
homes that well deserved the name. They were a conscientious 
class, sending out in turn as noble successors as any place has 
given to the world. 

Very early, there was the daughter of Tristram Coffin, Mary 
Starbuck, the first preacher among Friends, called the "Great 

32 



Woman," from whom an influence has descended which has con- 
tributed ever since to the acknowledged superiority of Nantucket 
women. She was esteemed a sort of Deborah among the peo- 
ple, and nothing of note was done on the island without her. 
Many of her family became ministers also among Friends. Al- 
though she left on the island but few visible monuments of her 
greatness of character, almost nothing she wrote having been 
preserved, yet her invisible monuments have been so enduring 
that for all generations after her her name has been on the island 
like a household word, almost a household divinity. So true is it 
that the memory of the virtuous is precious and their names are 
held in everlasting remembrance. 

From early times there were women preachers and elders, 
at whose feet might well sit many who in the day of larger op- 
portunity are filling in the world an honored and worthy place. 
1 remember an incident related of one of these which has always 
profoundly impressed me. She was a preacher amongst Friends, 
while her husband was an elder. Both were held in high esteem, 
but the wife knew what the world did not, that her husband 
later in life was no longer worthy of his position. She was so 
deeply exercised that a stern sense of duty compelled her to call 
the ministers and elders together, and open to them the matter 
which resulted in his disownment. This, as narrated by one 
who was familiar with the circumstances, and with the deeply 
tried woman, has always seemed to me a sublimely heroic act. 

The most prominent preacher in the meeting of my boyhood 
was Mary Clisby, afterwards Mary Macy. She is worthy of 
mention not for eloquence of speech or grace of manner, but in 

33 



their absence she had a weight of character spiritually com- 
bined with a remarkable insight, which made her a marked per- 
son. In her ministry of sixty years — she lived to be about ninety 
— she drew from the deepest springs of inspiration ; and in her 
public appearance was often led to unfold and minister to condi- 
tions of which she could know nothing outwardly, and even of 
whose presence at the meeting she could not be cognizant, owing 
to her being very near sighted. Among instances of this kind, 
some of which it were better to leave in the obscurity to which 
time has consigned them, was one I will mention. At one of the 
afternoon meetings, I saw a man come in and take his seat far 
back. I had never seen him in the meeting house before, but of 
his general character 1 had some knowledge. He was a man of 
good natural abilities, and might have made more of himself but 
for the love of intoxicating drink he could not, or did not, control. 
Soon after the meeting settled into silence, our friend arose with 
the words, ''Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when 
it giveth his color in the cup, when it moveth itself aright. At 
the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder. " She 
could have had no knowledge of the presence of the visitor, but 
she gradually portrayed his condition, spoke of natural abilities 
which had been clouded by intemperate habits, and then in forci- 
ble, loving language exhorted to amendment of life, for which 
divine assistance, if sincerely sought, was always to be found. 
This incident with similar ones has often, in the atmosphere of 
speculative doubts, taken a place as suggestive that the world in 
which we live is deeper and wider than we can know by mere 
outward sight. 

34 



There is Lucretia Mott, widely known, who became early in 
her life a minister in the Society of Friends, and who, from her 
natural breadth of thought, could not help uniting with the Hick- 
site division of Unitarian tendency in the great separation of 1828. 
In the anti-slavery struggle she took, with her devoted husband, 
a prominent place by the side of William Lloyd Garrison, Wen- 
dell Phillips, and the other heroes and almost martyrs of that 
cause. By her firm and consistent support in private life of the 
principles of the early abolitionists, and her testimony quietly 
borne against all distinction of color, nationality, and mere wealth, 
and by her persuasive eloquence in public, she exerted, through a 
life extended to nearly ninety years, a powerful influence for all 
that was noblest and best. If one wants to gather inspiration for 
noble, practical Christian living, let him read the lives of James 
and Lucretia Mott, written by their grand-daughter, Anna Davis 
Hallowell. The house where her childhood was passed until she 
was twelve years of age, when her family moved to Boston, is 
still standing, well preserved, at the corner of Fair and School 
streets. 

Closely associated with Lucretia Mott was Eliza Barney, 
one of the noblest women of the island, or of any other place or 
time. 

I might mention Maria Mitchell, of astronomical fame, Anna 
Gardner, another of the world's workers held in much esteem, 
Phoebe Ann Hanaford and Louise Baker as preachers, with a 
long list of teachers of unsurpassed excellence, ending with as 
large a proportion of noted housekeepers and home makers as 
probably any place ever furnished. 

35 




Chapter IV 

T is now time we turned to men of the island. It has 
had a long list of as noble seamen as ever sailed the 
ocean. Wherever its men have gone, and in what- 
ever walk of life, they have been the type that 
makes honesty, probity and uprightness more easily 
believed in. 1 once was introduced to a lawyer living near Bos- 
ton, who was a genealogist and antiquarian. ''What, " said he, 
''born on Nantucket, of Quaker ancestors, and trained in the 
Quaker society? 1 will insure on that stock." 

Like all seaport towns, the island has produced its full pro- 
portion of quaint men as well as women ; men who have been 
noted for their capacity for story telling, and could narrate the 
most improbable tales of sea or land, drawing heavily on their 
imaginations when needful. Of very early date there was Jethro 
Starbuck, the son of Tristram and Mary. He was not in the 
least like one of the characters I have alluded to, but was a sub- 
stantial elder among Friends. There is told of him an incident 
which 1 like to mention. When he was about ninety he said he 
had lived long enough and took to his bed. Lying there one sum- 
mer afternoon, there came in a young woman and said, "Cousin 
Jethro, we have lost our fire. Will thee give me a coal?" "Yes, 
but thee has nothing to carry it in." She stepped to the hearth, 
put some cold ashes in the hollow of her hand, picked up a live 
coal, put it upon the ashes, covering it with more, and putting 
her hand over it, started for home. ' ' There, ' ' said Cousin Jethro, 
"1 fmd there is something yet to be learned," and rising from 
his bed he lived some years longer. 

36 



I remember hearing an incident of a very different person. 
Wlien the first bank at Nantucket was started, some one gave 
him a check in payment of a small sum, telling him that it was 
the same as money. He took it home, looked it over, discussed 
it with his family, could not understand it and finally said : ** It 
is a chuck ; it is deviltry. I want nothing to do with it," and 
threw it into the fire. 

I had a great uncle who was noted for great absent minded- 
ness, which often produced laughable results. Going out one 
morning, he was overtaken by one of his neighbors to whom he 
said, "It is going to rain today and thee has forgotten to take 
thy overcoat." ''Well, " returned the neighbor, 'M would ad- 
vise thee to go back and get thy hat. " 

At one time his pig got out of the pen into the yard. He 
ran to a candle house near by and asked a man to come and 
stand at the gate while he got the pig back. On getting there 
the man said, ''Why, Cousin Reuben, why don't thee shut the 
gate?'' "Why, I never thought of it." Of the same man it 
was told that driving into his barn with hay, he was knocked off 
three times in succession before he remembered to get down in 
season. He had a brother called Uncle Ell, whom we boys of 
the family liked to meet, he was such good company. In 1799 
two barns burned in what was then called the North Shore. It 
was at midnight in the winter ; they were set on fire by lightning. 
There had been a prophecy that the world was coming to an end 
about this time, and when the people were awakened by the 
great glare of red light in the west, reflected on the black clouds 
in the east, many were much alarmed. One woman hastening 

37 



by Uncle Ell, said in an excited tone, "Oh Uncle Ell, is this the 
last day?" " Why, you fool, did you ever know the last day to 
come in the night?" 

Of the big story tellers to which 1 have referred, we had one 
who might be called the champion story teller. It was difficult 
to outdo him. At one of the islands of the Pacific which our 
ships frequented, there was a remarkable tree of which I used to 
hear our seamen speak. It was blown down in a severe gale, but 
not being uprooted had continued to grow along the ground. Its 
great length made it an object of curiosity. Our story teller was 
asked if he had ever seen it and how long it was. "Yes, 1 have ; 
when I was in the ship some of us started to find its length. 
We walked about two hours from its root, when we met some 
natives who told us it was about three leagues farther. 

When the firm of Hadwin and Barney were building their 
candle house, after the fire, the masons had used the ends of tim- 
ber lying about to block up the large try kettle while they built 
the brick work around it. The blocking was so solid and green 
that after a kettle of oil had been boiled the blockings remained. 
This being noticed as quite remarkable, some one proposed calling 
our story teller to see what he would say. He looked a moment. 
"Oh, that is not much. When 1 was out in the ship, we tried 
out a whole fare of oil, and when we had done a hen and chickens 
walked out from underneath unharmed." A great laugh went 
round, and our friend's reputation remained undimmed. 

Among the many anecdotes that used to be told represent- 
ing the conflict in the minds of some between the Quaker princi- 
ples and the usual impulses of human nature, is this. One 

38 



of the coasters in the War of 1812, when crossing Vineyard Sound 
sighted a small British privateer, and the crew saw a possibility 
of their being taken. The mate said, * ' Don 't let us give up with- 
out some show of fight. There is an old swivel in the hold ; let 
us get that up and fire it off." The captain answered, "Thee 
knows, mate, my principles won't allow me to take any part in 
fighting. " ** Well, Captain, you just go below and give up the 
deck to me. ' ' This he did, but could not give up the desire to keep 
the run of affairs, and just before the time for fighting he put 
his head out of the gangway and said, **Mate, if thee means 
to do execution with that swivel, 1 would advise thee to lower 
the muzzle a little. " 

Of solid as well as quaint characters, the island has had a 
large percentage. We can almost claim an inheritance in Benja- 
min Franklin, as his mother was born in the island, of Nan- 
tucket stock, and only went from it at the time of her marriage. 
The spot on which the house stood, and the spring of water 
which the family used, have recently been marked by the His- 
torical Society. Dr. Franklin, as shown by his bust and por- 
trait, has a striking resemblance to many of his Nantucket rela- 
tives. Christopher Hussey, one of the original purchasers, while 
never an actual resident (the family beginning with his son Ste- 
phen), was closely identified with its history and character. He 
was a man of marked influence in the earlier history of the col- 
ony, and was one of the crown's commissioners in setting off 
New Hampshire. In the early days of Nantucket his descendants 
filled a prominent place, especially in protecting the interests of 
the island in the war of the Revolution. 

39 



1 cannot feel it quite right to omit making mention of the 
first Zacheus Macy, who, in the day that he lived, was one of 
the good doctors of the island. He was considered wealthy, and 
was of a benevolent disposition. It was said of him that when- 
ever or wherever anything happened that needed surgical assist- 
ance or advice he freely lent his aid, and where there was need 
he was ready to assist in making the sufferers comfortable. 
When the Indians were being swept away by the dreadful plague, 
he daily, as long as it lasted, had one or two sheep killed and 
cooked as Indians did, in an oven of heated stones in the ground. 
These he would carry to a certain place and set a flag as a signal, 
while he kept to the windward and waited until he saw the food 
taken. 

In the list of the noble men of the Island are the Rotches, 
father and son, Samuel Rodman, William Coffin, the postmaster, 
the father of William Coffin the teacher of Mrs. Cyrus Pierce, 
and the ancestor of several gifted descendants; Jacob Barker, 
who at upwards of ninety years had a counting room at New 
York and also New Orleans ; Zenas and Gilbert Coffin, prominent 
Friends ; Nathaniel Barney, William Mitchell, the teacher of pre- 
cious memory ; George B. Upton, an adopted son of the island, a 
man of great business energy and held in universal esteem ; 
Barker Burnell, senior, much respected and honored by being 
sent as senator to general court ; Peter F. Ewer, the chief projector 
of the enterprise of building the camels; Gideon Gardner, David 
Joy, and a host of others. 

We must turn to the whaling service for perhaps our largest 
contribution. How well I remember in my youth some of these 

40 



men, who in the roughness of sea life never lost the gentleman, 
or a certain dignity, which made them respected and honored 
wherever they went. Such were Captains Charles Gardner, 
Edmund, his brother, Paul West, Levi Starbuck, Reuben R. 
Bunker, Christopher Wyer, Robert Joy, Timothy Upton, Fred- 
erick Chase, Frederick Arthur, Thaddeus Coffin, Obed Fitch, 
Micajah Swain and many others whose names I have not space 
to give. 

I want to quote here from our venerable historian, Obed 
Macy. ''Captain Benjamin Worth has given us, by our request, 
the following statement of his adventures : M began to follow 
the sea in 1789, being then fifteen years of age, and continued till 
1824. During this period, 1 was shipmaster twenty-nine years. 
From the time I commenced going to sea till I quitted the busi- 
ness, was at home only seven years. At the rate of four miles 
an hour whilst at sea, 1 have sailed more than 1,191,000 miles. 
I have visited more than forty islands in the Atlantic and Pacific 
Oceans, some of them many times, and traversed the west 
coasts of North and South America from Bolivia, latitude 40° south 
to 50° north, on the northwest coast, and up Christian Sound 
to Lynn Canal. 1 have assisted in obtaining 20,000 barrels of 
oil. During the last war I was taken by the English in the ship 
George and lost all I had on board. Whilst I commanded a ves- 
sel not one of my own crew was killed or even a limb broken, nor 
did any die of scurvy. ' " 

The following statement is from George Gardner : "I began 
to follow the sea at thirteen years of age, and continued in that 
service thirty-seven years. I was shipmate twenty-one years. 

41 



I performed three voyages to the coast of Brazil, twelve to the 
Pacific Ocean, three to Europe, and three to the West Indies. 
During thirty-seven years I was at home but four years and 
eight months. There were twenty-five thousand barrels of oil 
obtained by vessels which 1 sailed in. During my following the 
sea, from the best estimate 1 can make, 1 have travelled more 
than 1,000,000 miles. I was taken by the English in the late 
war and lost all the property 1 had with me. " 

It was such men and women as these of whom we have 
spoken, an innumerable company who gave to the island its high 
standing, breathing as they did daily the atmosphere of the grand 
old ocean around them, strengthened by a business that con- 
stantly taxed and developed them, softened and elevated by the 
influenceof a religion which Dr. Peabody of Cambridge said "was 
the best representation of pure primitive Christianity the world had 
ever known. " It was such men and women, with such surround- 
ings from which the conditions arose, that led an English Quaker 
minister to say of the island in its earlier days, that the people 
lived so simply and uprightly that the lawyers who plead for 
money, the doctors who prescribed for money, and the ministers 
who preached for money found no employment. "The world 
goes spinning down the grooves of change. " Methods can never 
remain long the same, but must adapt themselves to advanc- 
ing forms of civilization. The underlying principles and great 
truths of honest, upright, simple living are alike in all forms of 
society, forever binding and grand. 

Here are some of the old Nantucket nautical phrases: "As 
much as to say salt marsh. " "Scudding under bare poles." 

42 



'*Two lamps burning and no ship at sea. " '* Going with all sail 
out." "Will come over the bar without camels." **Keep 
an eye to windward." *' In the surf chock to the bow's thwart. " 
Nantucket phrases ran through the island speech mostly without 
being perceived by the people themselves. 

A woman sent a note to a carpenter : "I wish thee would 
come and put up my garden fence. My neighbor's hens get in, 
and my cucumbers are all made canoes of and my beans are 
under bare poles." A family circle was once discussing this use 
of nautical phrases, when the mother said, "Girls, 1 don't use 
them." " Yes thee does, mother." "Well, watch me and see 
if I do." The next morning she said to one of the children, 
"Take this and carry it to Cousin Phoebe, and tell her this squares 
the yards with us, and thee must scud for it is almost school time." 

A Friend minister who removed from Nantucket to Hudson, 
New York, was once attending a meeting where the people were 
sitting very far back. They had been urged without avail to 
comeforward, when he arose and said, "Friends, fleet forward, 
there is too much weight aft to sail well." 

A company of ship captains from New Bedford and Nan- 
tucket were dining together, when it was proposed that each one 
give a sentiment or tell a story. One, in his turn, gave this : 

" If navigating through this life 
In poverty or riches, 
You chance to meet a head beat sea 
Just ease her where she pitches." 

We must not forget to mention Abraham Quary ; not for any- 
thing in his personality, but because he was regarded as the last 

43 



of the island Indians, despite doubt as to his pedigree of unmixed 
Indian blood. This distinction more properly belongs to the 
daughter of Isaac Tashima, the last of the Indian chiefs, Dorcas 
Honarable, who lived in the Cartwright family, where she showed 
marked Indian traits. Abraham Quary, however, will go down 
to posterity with the claim of being the last Indian. He lived 
alone in a small hut near the shore of the harbor in Shimo. He 
cultivated what ground he could without question of ownership, 
procured fish and clams, and for the rest of his support depended 
upon kindly people in town. 

Closely connected with Abraham is a legend or tradition of 
curious interest. When the great sickness of 1764, to which 1 
have alluded, carried off the Indians, from some cause, perhaps 
from the action of some deep-lying law of the connection between 
all animal life, the blue fish, which had been plenty, suddenly 
disappeared from the waters around the island. The Indian sage 
said, '*When the houses of the red men are laid low, the blue 
fish will return." Whether from mere coincidence or nature's 
law it was so. Not far from the time of Abraham's death, the 
blue fish reappeared. I distinctly remember hearing two men say 
that there had been taken at Maddequet, that afternoon, two blue 
fish, the first that, with possibly an occasional exception, had 
been taken for nearly three quarters of a century. Since, with 
varying seasons, they have always been more or less plenty. 



44 




Chapter V 

|ET us take a visit to Sconset. Not the Sconset of 
today, with tall, showy cottages that look as if some 
glacier, of mistaken taste had borne them down from 
Cape Ann, but the queerest, most unpretentious 
quaintest little hamlet in the world. We start on 
a pleasant summer morning in the two-seated, cart-bodied wagon, 
pass through Newtown gate, a boundary that has become long 
since imaginary, and bear away southeast. Soon we are on the 
open plain, which Robert Collyer said reminded him of the Scottish 
moors, in the midst of fragrant bayberry bushes and sweet fern. 
We pass by on the right of the only farm house on the way, go 
through Madequecham's and Barnard's valleys to find ourselves 
in the southeast quarter, with Tom Never's Head looming up 
on the right out of Low Beach. As we ascend a slight elevation, 
the quaint village heaves suddenly in view, a long, low range of 
buildings with the glorious ocean for a background ; and on we 
go, down through the marshy ground at the foot of Cain's Hill, 
the air laden with the fragrant odor of swamp pinks, wild roses 
and blossoms of wild grape ; then another ascent and we are on 
the Bank. Winding through the little lanes, we stop at one of 
the cottages let for picnic parties, perhaps the William Paddock 
house, with part of the eaves actually lower than the rails of our 
wagon. It has for a tiny ell what was once the hut in Squam of 
the Indian, Isaac Tashima. We open the outside wooden shut- 
ters, sweep out the room, and spread upon the table such a 
repast as Nantucket women knew well how to prepare. A run 

45 



down the bank brings us back with voracious appetites. If the 
tide serves rightly, and we can supplement our meal with Aunt 
Sally Morey's fried fish tongues, all earthly wants are satisfied. 
Then the afternoon rest and stroll and we are homeward bound, 
perhaps through Squam, tired and happy. Yet with our happi- 
ness is a little regret. Our Sconset changes bit by bit. The 
heavy seas, hove in by the severe southeast gales, have made 
encroachments on the east of the island, especially at Sconset, 
the most exposed point. Rows of houses have been moved back. 
Occasionally a house has gone down the bank, and what was 
once the well of the village is now back of the breakers. Some 
one moved by the fact has said : 

" O spare us our Sconset, old Neptune, we pray ! " 

We who loved the dear, quaint, old village, seeing signs of more 
lamentable changes than the encroachment of the sea could ever 
work, would echo the cry imploringly, "O spare us our Sconset, 
we pray!" 

Another ride we must take, even more delightful, the ride 
to Shearing. Nantucket once had a flock of sheep divided at first 
into two parts, the eastern and the western. The western flock 
was given up before my day. A portion of the flock elected 
itself to the town, often to the annoyance of the people. Gates 
were no security against their entrance to back yards. You might 
stumble over them on the sidewalk, or they might choose to be 
folded on your front steps, if the steps were low, not easily taking 
hints to remove. The whole department of the sheep had much 
interest. The sheep ran at large, without shelter or feeding from 
the town. This condition seemed at first inhuman, but it was 

46 



proved that, take year by year with some off ones, these sheep 
did better and were freer from diseases native to the climate than 
those which were housed and fed. Due to the humid atmos- 
phere of the island, there were always green spots around the 
swamps upon which the sheep browsed. In severe snow they 
huddled together for warmth, sometimes getting buried in the 
drifts. After the storm the owners would turn out to rescue 
them, finding them by the breathing holes in the snow. It some- 
times happened that they were not found till they had eaten even 
the roots of the grass and the wool off one another. Yet with it 
all they were hardy and the best paying property on the island. 
Late in the season, when the sheep were weakened, there would 
come what was known as the ''sheep storms, " northeast rain 
storms. The sheep, huddled together, would drift toward the sea, 
and many would be drowned. 

But let us go to the shearing, the gathering of the flock, and 
their owners, a patriarchal institution, like the sheep shearing of 
Israel, when '^Laban went to Carmel to shear his flocks." It 
was held on the second and third days (Monday and Tuesday) 
nearest the twentieth of June, on the banks of Miacomet Pond. 
The pond was used for the washing. No old Nantucketer will 
ever lose the impress of shearing day in his boyhood. If the 
meeting of the day before was a silent one, I doubt if any of 
us Quaker boys were able to think of much beside the morrow. 
In the night we would steal a look at the sky to read the signs 
of the weather. If the day was fair no one needed a second 
calling. Then came the start. The horse and calash (cart) 
were backed up to the door. First, the large chest, kept espe- 

47 



cially for this occasion, was put in with its contents — two huge 
pewter platters for roast lamb, a boiled ham, pewter plates and 
tumblers to match, the incomparable green currant and goose- 
berry pies, buns, etc. — and along with these the shearer's 
shears. Beside the chest was placed a keg of water and one of 
home-brewed beer. On top of the chest were put the old can- 
vas sails for the awning and to shear upon. Then, with the small 
boys on top of the sails, my father to drive and the older boys to 
walk, with likely a shearer from the Cape, we were off, a happy 
crowd. As we ride over the Mill Hills, other carts similarly laden, 
vehicles, and pedestrians dot the level plain, all headed for the 
same point, about a mile and a half away. The day's busi- 
ness soon began. 

The sheep were yarded in compact quarters, so as to be 
easily caught, and the owners picked out each one his own. 
Then, not soon enough for the boys, came dinner, most of the 
owners' families dining in their separate tents. And such a din- 
ner! Delmonico's or the Parker House never came near it. 
Dinner was followed by more sheep catching. The sheep were 
now thinned out enough to give chance for clandestine rides on 
the backs of the veterans of the tlock. Always were shouts of 
laughter ready to greet anyone knocked from his underpinnings 
by that " tarnal ram. " 

A proposal, always met with favor, was to go outside the 
gates, where were flying horses, dancing boards, Cousin Eunice 
Noble and others selling buns and lemonade, candy and cigars, 
and blind Frank, the fiddler, making music — such as it was — 
for the dancers. , 

48 



When the shadows grew long, we headed homeward, too 
tired to walk but obliged to, for the carts were now laden with 
wool. Next day was the same thing, and shearing was once 
more over. The heads of the tribe gathered to discuss the con- 
dition of their clippings as compared with last year and the mar- 
ket price of wool, while the children began to save their pennies 
for their next shearing. 

The great island feast day was over. Silence fell on the 
deserted commons, and the tide of love and joy, of hope and 
despair, of life and death went on as in old times and new. 
Scenes change, customs die out, but human hearts remain a 
thousand years the same. 



49 




Chapter VI 

IHE aesthetic needs of our nature on the island have 
been ignored until within the latter half of the cen- 
tury. 

The principle of moderation and simplicity had 
its root in a just estimate of life's true meaning and 
is pre-eminently Christian. With Friends it was, however, car- 
ried too far. Very few, if any, of the Friends' houses contained 
a particle of anything meant to minister to the love of the beau- 
tiful. 

An amusing anecdote was told me of a personal application 
of this mistaken devotion to extreme simplicity, in the case of a 
valued saintly woman whom I well remember in my boyhood. 
She was so near sighted as to be dependent upon glasses. She 
had given her, to displace those she wore, a better looking pair, 
gold-bowed. Soon after she began to wear them, an overseer of 
the meeting called and, in the usual kindly manner, suggested 
that they were too worldly to be worn. The dear, conscientious 
woman went to meeting the next time without glasses. When 
the meeting was out, it was customary for the men to wait at 
the women's door for their wives. Our friend, with her imper- 
fect vision, stepped up to a man, who in form and size resembled 
her husband, and took his arm. When she perceived her mis- 
take she was greatly mortified, and on reaching home declared, 
"I shall never go to meeting again without glasses ; if 1 am dis- 
owned I cannot help it." 

50 



Another case, more pathetic in its nature, shows the nar- 
rowness of Friends in still other ways. Years ago, there remained 
one other house on the site of the old town besides the solitary 
one which is still standing. It stood entirely alone, without fence 
or tree near, old and half decayed. There is attached to it a bit 
of homely romance that invested it with a certain interest to the 
Islanders. It was occupied by three maiden sisters in advanced 
years, when I knew them. Like many of that period, they held 
a birthright membership amongst Friends, and though ignorant, 
rustic to the last degree, and exceedingly peculiar, they had done 
nothing to forfeit their birthright and were supported by the 
meeting. The touch of romance is that their mother, who was 
of an old Friend's family, was, when young, sought in marriage 
by a young man whose affection she returned, and who was in 
every way suitable except that he did not belong to the meeting. 
On this ground her parents refused their consent. The young 
woman, as the story goes, disappointed, and careless of her 
future, said she would marry the first member of the meeting 
that came along, even if he was a simpleton. The first who 
came was almost that, but she kept her resolve, probably to bit- 
terly repent of it in the long after years when she was slowly 
dragged down to his level. 

At last the mother, who always kept some hold on the bet- 
ter life of her father's family, went wearily to her rest; and the 
three sisters, her daughters, who had become well known through- 
out the island, lived on, remote from the town, as uncultured and 
as much the children of nature as could consist with the respect- 
ability which their Quaker blood, dress and language never 
allowed them to entirely lose. 

51 



After they grew old and the house became unfit for occu- 
pancy, Friends were anxious to have them move to a more com- 
fortable one nearer town. At length a house that would meet 
this condition came into possession of the meeting, and after 
great persuasion the sisters were moved into it. Their caretakers 
left them at night apparently comfortable in their new quarters. 
The next morning, going to see how they were getting on, 
they found to their astonishment that they had moved back 
to their old home in the night, carrying everything they could 
by hand. After this no further attempt was made to move them. 
Their invariable reply when spoken to on the subject was, "Why 
we was well enough off last winter, and we are only a year 
older now." Of the accumulation of years their simple logic 
took no account. So they lived on until one sister only was left. 
When she was taken to the meeting's home, the lonely old house 
was taken down for firewood, and the name of the family ceased 
on the island. 

One circumstance in connection with these lonely women is 
worth mention, as a testimony to the beautiful delicacy of Friends 
in administering their charity. A flock of hens furnished all the 
sisters' means. They carried their eggs to the store of a Friend, 
who was instructed by the overseers of the meeting to furnish 
them with whatever their simple needs required, giving credit for 
the worth of the eggs, and charging the balance to the meeting, 
without letting them know anything of it. Thus they thought 
in their simplicity that the eggs paid for all they had, and a self 
respect was preserved which to even such as they was agree- 
able. 

52 



This little ditty concerning them may be interesting. The 
author is unknown. 

On this little sandy island, 
A mile or two from town, 
Live three aged sisters, 
The fame of whom resound. 

One of these sisters, eighty-two, 
Another most fourscore ; 
And Anne, youngest of the three. 
Her years are seventy-four. 

In peace and comfort there they live, 
Free from the cares of wealth. 
Enjoying more than many hearts 
Of happiness and health. 

No husband ever smiled on them 
To cheer them on their course, 
But a life of single blessedness 
Seems to have been their choice. 

They never left their native isle, 
The world at large to see. 
But seemed so well contented 
In ignorance to be. 

Full sixty years ago, they say, 
They visited our wharves, 
The price of apples to obtain, 
Also of beef and porl<. 

They make companions of their hens 
And nurse them with much care ; 
They share with them their humble home 
And let them roost up stairs. 

53 



One of them walks sometimes to town, 
In order to procure 
Whatever articles they need 
From Cousin Reuben's store. 

Oh, it would please you very much 
To see her in her walks, 
* As round each post she three times goes, 
And steps so quick and fast. 

Gay visitors they sometimes have, 
Also the sleek and prim. 
With pockets well nigh bursting 
With cakes and other things. 

Could you but see the joyous smile 
Around Friend Mary's mouth, 
And hear the trembling accents. 
As Phoebe then creaks forth. 

" I'm obleeged to thee," Friend Phoebe cries. 
And Anne looks her thanks, 
While Mary hastens with the prize 
As fast as she can tramp. 

Upon the upper shelf she puts 
The goods which they bestow. 
And then she comes and seats herself 
The news in town to know. 

'Tisthen the numerous questions 
In quick succession come, 
About the folks they know in town, 
Also our friends at home. 

*A habit she had. 

54 



And sometimes, while you are sitting 
Conversing with the three 
About their hens and chickens, 
You much amused would be. 

Perchance your ears will be greeted 
With cackling shrill and loud ; 
Sometimes a smart young chanticleer 
Will make the walls resound. 

And when we speak of leaving, 
They press us hard to stay, 
And make us promise often 
To take a stroll that way. 

" Now come agin, all on ye," 
Is Phoebe's constant cry, 
As we, their mansion leaving, 
Turn round to say good-bye. 

Now if there's any in this isle 
Who have never seen the three, 
Delay no longer, visit them, 
Repaid you will surely be. 

The simple conservative clinging to tradition, illustrated by 
this case, as well as the disparagement of what was deemed 
ornamental, shown by the first anecdote, was evident in the edu- 
cation. 

Nantucket's educational institutions, while in the main of 
great excellence, had their weak side, possibly from the isolation 
of the island or the nature of its business, but perhaps more 
because of the all pervading influence of Quakerism. It is prob- 
able that in Nantucket fewer persons have received classical or 

55 



collegiate education than in any town in the State of correspond- 
ing size and wealth. This fact must not be taken for too much, 
however. It has been matched by a high standard of plain, 
solid, practical education, furnishing a sound business basis, and 
a large number of superior teachers who have supplied the town 
in the past and present, while many have gone to all parts of the 
country, everywhere a credit to the island and themselves. 
Nantucket has no need to strike her educational flag to any town. 



56 




Chapter VII 

^g^^^^HE not infrequent wrecks around the island were a 
i^P^^3 constant source of interest, at times sad and painful. 
When a boy I would lie nights in such storms as our 
coast knows, and hear the wind howling and feel it 
shake the house. Sometimes came a shudder at the 
sound of a signal gun from some vessel in distress. Then at 
"crack of dawn," as we used to say, our old seamen would be 
in the tower, sweeping the shore with their glasses for possible 
wrecks. At one time five wrecks were discovered at different 
points. Now horses and carts, with large numbers of boys and 
men on foot would make their way to the scene of the accident 
to save property, and not infrequently life. 

How intense it all was! Once I remember nineteen drowned 
seamen were buried at the same time. Occasionally these wrecks 
left large sums of money on the island. In one case the amount 
reached between thirty and forty thousand dollars. The cargo, 
in this instance of cotton, had to be got on shore at deservedly 
large pay to the wreckers ; then it had to be carted to town and 
shipped to the mainland. 

The south shoal is a regular trap for trans- Atlantic vessels. 
It is thought that many never heard of came to harm upon it. 
The deepest interest was roused throughout the town one winter 
by an English steamer that anchored off Sconset, having con- 
sumed all her coal and every part of herself that could be cut 
down with safety. Coal had to be carted seven miles from 
town, then carried to the steamer in dories, that could be hauled 

57 



over the ice or floated through the half-frozen water, till she had 
enough fuel to get her to the mainland. 

Another singular incident is of a richly laden ship that struck 
on the south shoal just at night, with a heavy southeast storm 
coming on. The crew, seeing no chance to get her off, abandoned 
her, landed at Sconset, and the next day took the steamer for 
Boston. On arriving, what was their amazement to fmd their 
own ship already there. She had thumped over the shoals, been 
boarded by smackmen, and taken to port, a big prize. 

When I first moved from the island, well I remember how 
tame life seemed without the exhilarating influence of the sea — 
its storms and calm ; its low tides and its high tides, sometimes 
sweeping over the wharves and up the lower streets ; its destruc- 
tion and its life-giving energy and joy ; its majesty and grandeur, 
now roused to fury, now calm and placid, but never quite at rest ; 
and, pervading all, its deep undertone of soothing and of sadness. 



58 




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Chapter VIII 




S THE sea is to the inhabitants of the Netherlands a 
constant menace, so is fire to the inhabitants of 
Nantucket. A compact, wooden town, liable in 
winter to be cut off from the rest of the world, with 
high winds the usual accompaniment of the cold, 
the dread of fire was inborn, and the best of fire apparatus and 
all means of precaution were assiduously looked after. I shall 
never forget the nervous fear of those cold nights. Every now 
and then as a severe blast struck the house, some one would say 
*'I hope everyone will be careful of his fires tonight." 

The town for a long time was wonderfully exempt, a cen- 
tury and a half. In 1846, on a warm, moonlight night in July, 
the alarm bell struck, causing at first but little anxiety. Before 
the next morning a large part of the town, including all the busi. 
ness portion, had gone up in fire and smoke. Hundreds lost 
their all, and hastily left comfortable homes that night never 
again to own another. The town, already at its ebb tide, never 
recovered from the shock. Along with all the confusion and ter- 
ror there were humorous incidents on that fearful night. A fam- 
ily by the name of Coffin, at a house early enveloped in smoke 
which soon burned, were hastily trying to save what of their 
effects they could, when Mrs. Coftln seized the package of silver 
she had put up, and rushing into the street asked a passing man 
if he would take care of it. He, not knowing her, said, ''What 
shall I do with it?" Entirely bewildered, she could only reply, 



59 



*M don't know. " "But who are you?" demanded the per- 
plexed stranger. '*Why, 1 don't know, " answered the confused 

woman, "but I believe 1 am John S 's wife, " naming one of 

their friends to whose house their goods were being carried. It 
speaks well for both the stranger and for Nantucket that Mrs. 
Coffm received her silver — a considerable amount — intact the 
next day. 

Some happenings of another nature are worth recalling. The 
house of David G. Hussey, a friend of mine, was soon in danger. 
I was helping to save something. We had his parlor carpet up, 
when command came to leave as the house was to be blown up. 
We did leave at once, and a keg of powder was placed ready for 
igniting. Just then the chief of the fire department, Obed B. 
Swain, said, " Wait, close the doors ; 1 want to go over the house 
to be sure no one is in it. David is very hard of hearing." He 
was found in an attic chamber gathering up valuable papers. 
But for this thoughtfulness he would never have been seen again. 

Later on, 1 was helping somewhere else to rescue household 
goods, with a horse and cart, when a relative met me and said, 
''Will thee come and take my mother away.? Our home will 
burn soon. " 1 went and backed the cart up to the house. My 
venerable aunt, Judith Hussey — then over eighty — had her 
chair brought -and put into the cart. Then she came and sat 
down quietly, taking hold of the front rail. " Wait a minute, " 
she said, and with a calm, serene look, but with indescribable 
sadness, she turned and gased on the house already on fire. It 
was a stately house, built by her husband and the home of all 
her married life. " Now thee may drive on, " was all she said. 

6o 



I started, selecting the least dangerous streets, but I was forced 
to pass over burning timbers, and to brush the sparks several 
times from my aunt's dress and bonnet, before we reached her 
son's. From there, too, as the fire spread, she had to be removed 
later. 

One more rather curious incident 1 will speak of. Along 
the heads of the wharves was stored a large quantity of oil. As 
the heat caused the casks to burst, the oil ran out in large streams, 
some of it taking fire on the water. An engine had been placed 
a little way from the shore in the water for a better supply. A 
small island of burning oil came down upon it. The men, seeing 
the danger, dropped down under the oil and were unhurt, v/hile 
the engine burned. 

Many, on that fearful night, lost every thing. But there 
was a loss beyond dollars and cents that report would not be 
likely to reckon— the loss of historic dwellings; a loss that has 
grown with the increase of years, as objects of curiosity have 
been more sought by the summer visitor. 

There was the house of the great heroine Miriam Coffm 
( Keziah her true name), on Center street. Opposite, on the cor- 
ner of Center and Pearl streets, was a very fine specimen of the 
best colonial houses of the beginning of this century, a large 
house with brick ends, buttresses and fire chimneys, with a wide 
hall through the center and entered by stone steps with iron rail- 
ings. When it was being built, a popular after-tea walk was to 
go to see the Tristram Hussey house. There was the magnifi- 
cent mansion, as it then seemed, of Aaron Mitchell, on North 
Water street, the northern terminus of the fire, and the Mark 

6 1 



Coffin house on Federal street, one room of which, elaborately 
furnished, was used for a bank. Along with the rest burned the 
Athenaeum, with its valuable contents, the Manufacturers' and 
Merchants' Bank, whose doors had just been closed, the Phoenix 
Bank and Insurance Office, a stately building on the corner of 
Main and Center streets, besides a large number of storehouses 
around the wharves, the repository of the accumulated outfits for 
the next voyage, or the returned implements of whaling to be 
overhauled for the next trip, along with many articles from for- 
eign ports. 

To an antiquarian resident on the island, and especially to a 
non-resident, these buildings would be now of great interest ; 
for sentiment, while it makes no blade of grass grow and turns no 
factory spindle, has a place, and that no mean one, in life's great 
and diversified economy. ''Man lives not by bread alone." 
After the fire had burned itself out, the scene of desolation was 
utterly indescribable. I remember one thing in particular. In 
the ravaged districts great heaps of coal and oily rubbish 
remained smouldering all summer. When the wind fanned the 
flames, they would shoot up and throw a weird, ghastly light 
through the streets. If the wind was east, the odor of burning 
substance would pervade the town with a gloomy, depressing 
effect. 

At length, however, order was evoked out of the terrible 
chaos. Rebuilding began, new lines of streets were drawn, 
many narrow lanes almost impassable were obliterated, and busi- 
ness began to move. Encouragement was given by the sym- 
pathy and generosity exhibited in all parts of the country, made 

62 



manifest by large sums of money and household goods of every 
description. Nowadays, though an Islander treading the burnt 
districts sees only how much is gone, to the stranger the gaps 
are not visible. He is content with the present buildings which, 
although of less imposing proportions, are yet not uncomely. 



63 




Chapter IX 

[OMMUNITIES, like individuals, often win their lib- 
erty and all advancement at a great price. Such 
was the case with our American colonies in obtain- 
ing emancipation from British rule. No community, 
1 have often held, made a larger contribution to that 
price than Nantucket; not, perhaps, by what was visibly done, 
but by what was borne, and lost and suffered. With so extended 
a sea coast, impossible to protect, and with the prevalence of the 
Quaker principles against all war, offensive or defensive, a posi- 
tion of neutrality was the only feasible or indeed possible one. 
This position was allowed during the war, and for the most part 
was respected. 

In the entire loss of business, in the difficulty of procuring 
the necessities of life from the main land because of the nearness 
of British privateers, in the untold misery of men taken at sea 
and confined in prison ships, the inhabitants were subject to 
great anxiety and privation. Obed Macy's history gives the fol- 
lowing account of the economic conditions : ''Many of the middle 
class, at the commencement of the war, had some hundreds of 
dollars by them which they had saved, but they were under the 
necessity of using this for the support of their families. Wood 
was frequently twenty dollars a cord, corn three dollars a bushel, 
or more, flour thirty dollars a barrel, and other produce propor- 
tionately dear. " Have 1 not said truly that Nantucket, without 
participating in active warfare, paid by its losses and sufferings 
as large a price for American liberties as any part of the country? 
No part deserves more the benefits won. 

64 




Chapter X 

ELIGION is intertwined with the roots of our being, 
and lies at the foundation of all society ; not theol- 
ogy, not ecclesiasticism, but the inward sense of a 
power above ourselves upon which we are depend- 
ent, whose will is our well-being and happiness, a 
sense of moral responsibility of trust and hope. 

The religion of Nantucket has always been colored by pecu- 
liarity of situation and the strong influence of Quakerism. The 
North Meeting, as we used to call it ( Presbyterian), the first relig- 
ious organization, was loosely bound at first, and was soon over- 
shadowed by the rapid growth, planted in favoring social soil, of 
the Society of Friends. It has, nevertheless, held on its way, 
including many of the most substantial people, and making a record 
among the progressive minds of the times by choosing as their 
pastor for years a woman, the late esteemed and beloved Louise 
Baker. The Methodists, Unitarians, Baptists, Episcopalians and 
Catholics have each in turn joined the ranks of religious workers. 
Each sect, not by creed or lack of one, but in proportion as it 
belongs to the church of the Divine service, by being the 
co-worker with God in human helpfulness, is putting its brick in 
the universal invisible church, the temple of light and love that 
the ages are building. 

" Our Friend, our Brother and our Lord, 

What may thy service be? 
Nor name, nor form, nor ritual word, 
But simply following Thee." 

— IVhittier 
65 



'* God meets the throngs who pay their vows 

In courts that hands have made, 
And hears the worshipper who bows 

Beneath the plantain shade. " 

— Harriet Martineau 

Whoever tells the story of the religious side of the island's 
life cannot but give a large place to the Society of Friends, its 
written and unwritten annals, filled with quaint, entertaining, 
solid and sublime experiences of human life in its multiform 
aspects. That its records* should ever have been taken from the 
island, where alone they belong, is a matter for deep regret. 
They should be returned, duplicated for greater security, and 
placed in some safe deposit for certain keeping. 

Gone now its meeting houses, its people, its ways, but its 
influence lives and will never die. Its leading ideas and princi- 
ples, based on the love of God and the brotherhood of men, its 
central thought the immanence of the Eternal Spirit in every 
soul, the accessibility of every soul to the Father, without the need 
of intervention of priest or outward form, these great thoughts 
are more and more pervading the minds of all denominations, and 
the divisions of sect and creed and form are fading out in the light 
of Christ's gospel of love. 

The greatest cause for Nantucket's decline is undoubtedly 
the law of natural selection, the survival of the fittest. 

The selection of a different railroad terminus has destroyed 
the prospects and depleted of its inhabitants many a western 

*The records belonging to Nantucket quarterly meeting were taken to Lynn quarterly 
meeting after the decline of Nantucket meeting. 

66 



town ; the change of a street crossing has lessened the value of 
many a block of buildings. New York, on the island of Manhat- 
tan at the mouth of the lordly Hudson, could not but become a 
metropolis and mart for many nations. Philadelphia, lying 
between the noble Delaware and the Schuylkill rivers, in a fer- 
tile region, the garden of Pennsylvania, must needs become great. 
So, Nantucket, with the sand bar across its harbor, with gas and 
electricity to take the place of oil, and with the advantage of 
maritime transit over land transit lost by the advent of steam, 
could but decline, and ''she who once sat queen of the seas" 
must needs resign her crown of supremacy. 

It was a hard-fought warfare, if vain, that her children 
waged to save her prestige. There were the camels, designed 
like those in Holland, to float her shipping over the shallow 
waters, that financially failed. The attempts at manufacturing 
and v/orking of silk and straw failed also, because of the distance 
from a market. So the years went on of heroic endeavor and 
patient bearing, till her glory departed — yet not wholly lost, only 
changed. By her resources drawn from the sea she had given 
light to many people ; by her resources drawn from the sea of its 
life-giving breezes, she still holds her place — not a mean one — 
among nature's beneficent forces. Here come professional men, 
merchants tired of the rush and whirl of life, exhausted teachers 
and shop girls, and sometimes those scarcely less weary with the 
inane life of fashionable watering places, to drink in restoration 
and a new sense of being. 

Though many of her once stately buildings are owned by 
strangers, who occupy them but two months of the year, leav- 

67 



ing them closed and desolate the rest of the time, though her 
wharves are crumbling in decay, yet is her work not done. 
While the stranger, ever welcome within her borders, blesses 
her, we sons of the soil, who too infrequently visit her, though 
always hearing the note of sadness like the undertone of sea, yet 
can say, now and forever, 

" Undecked, unlovely as thou art, 
A speck upon the world's great chart, 

Thou art our native spot. 
And true to Nature still we love 
And, by affection, still we prove 

Thy faults can be forgot." 



" And yet that isle remaineth 

A refuge of the free, 
As when true-hearted Macey 

Beheld it from the sea. 

Free as the winds that winnow 
Her shrubless hills of sand. 

Free as the waves that batter 
Along her yielding land. 

Than hers at duty's summons, 

No loftier spirit stirs ; 
Nor falls o'er human suffering 

A readier tear than hers. 

God bless the sea-beat island ! 

And grant forevermore 
That Charity and Freedom dwell 

As now upon her shore." 

68 



Appendix 

The following extracts are from a letter to the author, writ- 
ten by his valued friend, E. W. M. : 

The history of one of Nantucket's most remarkable women. I cop- 
ied it from an article written by Sarah Waterman, daughter of the Late 
Stephen Hussey. Sister to Eunice and Abial. 

Rachel Bunker was taken ill on the yth, Expired on the 9th, and was 
Interred on the nth of the nth Month, 1795, aged 80 years, 7 months, 
and 23 days. 

She had 12 children, 100 and 22 Grandchildren, and 98 Great Grand- 
children. 

About 33 years of her life was devoted to Public Service. In which 
time she assisted at the birth of two thousand, nine hundred and ninety- 
four children, among whom were thirty-one pairs of twins. 

The following lines were Inscribed to Capt. Reuben Chase by his 
Brother Capt. Joseph Chase, and were afterwards removed from the 
cemetery by his son Obed, who was absent on a voyage at the time of 
his father's death, and he being young, probably did not take the sense 
of them. Regret was expressed by other members of the family when it 
was too late to have matters corrected. Capt. Reuben had served as an 
officer with Paul Jones, in the Bon Homme, Richard, and seen a great 
deal of hard sea life, and Cooper in one of his Novels, calls him Long 
Tom Coffin. I think that can be found in Homeward Bound. 
The Epitaph reads thus : 

Free from the storms, and gusts, of human life 
Free from the noise of passion, and of strife 
Here lies Reuben Chase, Buried, 

Who hath stood the sea 
Of ebbing life, and flowing misery. 

69 



He was no Dandy rigged, his prudent eye foresaw 
And took a reef at fortune's quickest flaw, 
He luffed, and bore away, to please mankind 
The duty, urged him still to head the wind. 

Rheumatic gusts, at length his masts destroyed. 
Yet, jury health awhile he still enjoyed. 

Laden with grief, and age, and shattered here 
At length he struck, and grounded on his Bier, 
Heaven took its Ballast, from its deepest hold 
And left his body a wreck destitute of soul. 



Nantucket, May 25th, 1822. 
Ships, 80 
Briggs, 6 
Schooners, 16 
Sloops, 59 
Inhabitants, 7,266 
Families, 1,423 
Houses, 911 
Rope Walks, 9 
Candle Houses, 36 

There were, at one period from 95 to 100 ships. I presume you may 
be well informed in all such matters, I corrected the omission of sloops, 
as you will perceive. 

Nantucket, Dec. 28th, 1791, our harbor closed with Ice, and contin- 
ued so that no vessel could leave our wharfs until the following March. 
British Letter of Marque was frozen in, during all that time. One of our 
first Ladies told me, she attended with many others, several very beauti- 
ful parties call'd Balls, given by the Officers of that ship, and they proved 
a very fine class of gentlemen. 

70 



